Chapter 1216

Chapter 1216:

ragged and shallow, barely enough to feed my lungs. My knees buckled. Gravity won. I fell—hard—against the cold, unyielding ground. Then, everything vanished into black.

I had no sense of time. Minutes, hours—maybe days—slipped by like whispers in a fog.

Somewhere in the dark, movement stirred. Voices—low, muffled—hovered just out of reach. I clawed my way back to awareness, every second a struggle. My eyelids peeled open.

The ceiling above me was sterile white, and the cold fluorescent lights stung my eyes. The sharp, medicinal tang in the air told me exactly where I was—Wizard Clan hospital.

“How is his condition?” A familiar voice, cold and impatient, cut through the hushed air.

I turned my head slightly. Pain lanced through me, sharp and sudden, but I caught sight of a tall, imposing figure standing beside my bed. Colt, the eldest prince of the Wizard Clan. His presence was unmistakable—proud posture, eyes like tempered steel, watching me with a look that cut deeper than any wound.

“Your Highness, his condition has stabilized. But… the severed limb cannot be restored,” replied a doctor hovering by my side.

My chest caved under an invisible weight.

“Cannot be restored?”

I forced my gaze downward. My left arm was gone—bandaged tightly, yes, but beneath it… nothing. A cold, gaping emptiness replaced what was once part of me.

A tremor shook my lips. “No… no…” The words slipped out as a whisper, fragile and broken.

Without it—how could I possibly strike back? How could I bring Makenna to her knees?

Colt’s head tilted, his gaze piercing. “Awake? How do you feel?”

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I swallowed hard, forcing my lips into something that resembled a smile. “I feel alright. Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”

His jaw tightened. The mask dropped. Disappointment flared in his eyes. “Alright?” His voice was a whip crack. “Antoni, you have shamed me. I entrusted you with soldiers to handle Makenna, and this is the outcome? What use are you to me now?”

“Your Highness, I… I…” I tried to speak, but even a breath shifted the bandages. A raw cry escaped me as pain surged through every nerve.

Colt’s gaze remained stone cold. “Once you recover, we will settle this.” He turned and strode out, his steps echoing into silence.

I lay there, consumed by despair, the world feeling bleak and lifeless.

My arm—my weapon, my strength—gone. I felt hollow. Useless. “Why… why did it have to come to this?” The question left my mouth in a hoarse murmur, lost in the sterile quiet.

Then—I heard them. Footsteps. Close. Just outside the door.

My chest clenched. Was Colt back? Maybe… maybe to reconsider?

Perhaps some sliver of hope?

I turned my head, and saw the last face I wanted to see. Jett!

He leaned against the doorframe, smirking like the devil himself. His eyes sparkled with cruel delight.

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